I'm pissed. It's an anger that's been on a slow boil that's beginning to bubble over, and at this point, there's no putting a lid on it. I've been writing about sex on a pretty public platform for some time now, at first anonymously, and then under my real name. I've had to endure ignorant assumptions and cheap shots made about my looks, my weight, my vagina, my tits, my sexual health, my mental health, my morality, my character — and all for what? Being honest? For liking sex? I've poured my guts out all over my keyboard, and I'm well aware that that invites criticism, particularly on the internet, where people think they can say whatever the fuck they please — in the most offensive manner possible that they would never employ in real life — with impunity because they're protected behind a shroud of anonymity. It's frustrating. And lemme tell you, I am so sick of people telling me, "You write about sex and personal issues. You have to accept that people will sling insults." Fuck. That. Shit. I don't have to accept it. I refuse to accept it. Mostly because I know that this wouldn't happen if I were a man.

I'm pissed because people so frequently try to take women down a peg by attacking their sexuality, automatically throwing out names like "whore" and "slut." And that shit happens to me, even though I own my promiscuity. It's even more hurtful when it comes from other women.

Sexual double standards are still annoyingly prevalent, and tearing them down has been my personal crusade as a feminist. Accepting insults cast upon my sex life would be undoing everything I've set out to accomplish. I hate when people say that I fuck so much because I have a low self-esteem, or that I'm lonely, or that I just want attention. In fact, in my first ever post on my personal blog, I stated that the only void I'm trying to fill is the one between my legs. And I know that I'm not the only one. There are tons of other women out there just like me (you're probably reading this right now!), who engage in casual sex purely for the physical merits of it. And I think that we all find comfort or solidarity in sharing our stories with each other, because as women, that's how we do: Bitches love talking.

I feel defeated sometimes knowing that people aren't able to fathom that women don't need a reason to have sex other than just wanting to fuck. It's like, if we aren't in a relationship or prostituting, then there must something wrong with us. By saying that sex is only useful to single women as a commodity devalues our existence.

What's more is that I've never tried to be sexy in my writing. If anything, I like to explore the more unpleasant aspects of sex, because they're more interesting to me (like herpes or queefing). And you know, I don't have any delusions about being completely altruistic. I get plenty of benefits from writing about sex, like this job, for example.

Of all the embarrassing stuff that can happen during sex — urine leaks, unwelcome fingers in…
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I know I can tend to be all TMI, but I think that's because I place a lot of emphasis on I, and if people think that's TM, then TS. That's much more of a reflection on them than me. I've noticed that the shit I tend to write is like a literary Rorschach test.

And I'm probably preaching to the choir here, since this isn't a common problem I encounter on Jezebel (which actually proves my point that I'm not the only unabashed slut out there). But from here on out, I'm putting my foot down. I'm not taking any shit anymore, because like it or not, it's not gonna keep me from spreading my legs, my anecdotes, or my opinions. Real talk.